The Mount Doom Cocktail Bar
by Gaia caecilia
Summary: A rather silly idea for a story I had when drinking on the original Mount Doom (Stromboli) about there being a cocktail bar on Mount Doom. There isn't a lot of plot but hey, and its probably best described as sardonic pointless fun which I shall add to as and when I feel like it. Read at your own risk.


**The Mount Doom Cocktail Bar**

Alright, so not my style here, but anyway. As you may guess from the name, its going to be a tad crack-fic style and the result of a very silly idea I had once. If you're wondering how, I was sitting on Stromboli, in a cocktail bar drinking a mojito and decided to google Stromboli. This is how I found out that Stromboli was Tolkein's inspiration for Mount Doom. And there where I was and what I was doing hit, and I decided that what the fanfiction universe really needed was a story on the subject of a bar on Mount Doom and the silly (possibly slightly alcohol fuelled) ideas began to flow, so here it is.

I have no idea how long this is going to be as it depends on when I have ideas for stuff to happen. This may also be a tad plot lite but since the point is the silliness, not a proper story its basically going to be me, when I feel like it, adding extra chapters to the silliness. If people want to add extra ideas or write additions feel free to message me.

Warning - this won't be straight humour, since I basically don't do or get straight humour, more sardonic really. It is also NOT TO BE TAKEN SERIOUSLY in any way. Its just something I had to get out of my head.

Disclaimer - I own nothing but a warped mind.

**Introduction**

**A.k.a How the Hell I got to be running a cocktail bar in Mordor.**

I sat looking round the now quite large, busy bar and the incredibly eclectic mix of races inside, interacting non-violently and as civilly as one can expect in the only drinking hole in Mordor.

Yes, you did hear that right. The only drinking hole in Mordor, yep, that's what we are. And by only drinking hole, I mean we are the only establishment in the entirety of Mordor who sells alcohol by the glass, has places to sit and all the other accoutrements necessary to call oneself a pub/bar/whatever.

You may be surprised to find that there are any businesses at all in Mordor, but in the years following the Last Alliance, the battle of the Moranon Fields (sometimes called the battle of the Black Gate) and everyone's favourite Hobbit throwing a tacky piece of bling into Mount Doom, there has been a growing and now thriving town set up on the side of the newly reconfigured Mount Doom, and this may pretty much entirely be my fault.

How I hear you ask, well, yeah, that comes back to how I, a poor innocent university graduate, happily with her Brewing and Distilling masters degree, got dropped into Middle Earth. I did not manage this in the finest style of oh so many awful fanfictions as written by teenage girls. Starting with the landing in Mordor bit, after the war. Which really wasn't how it was supposed to go.

So yeah, I get dropped on Mount Doom maybe a month or two after the war ends, when the survivors of the war on Mordor's side have cooled down and are busy going to ground in the face of having lost. At this point the winners are off recovering etc so they don't turn up until later in this story.

Either way I land just off the side of a clearing where several, as it turns out female, former minions of Sauron are sitting together and having a good old fashioned bitch. Its all how now there is no war how nothing gets done, how the males are just sitting round getting depressed, typical housewife gossip really.

Not entirely sure what is possessing me, I walk up and ask to join and they happily let me, evidently not being speciest in this group.

As I listen, and idea comes to me. I ask about if anyone knows where I can get metal smithing done, and if people know some good resources. As it turns out one of the orc ladies worked as a smith under Sauron, and one of the Haradhrim girls knows where to source stuff and it sort of grows from there.

We build stills and start producing spirits, a thus far not discovered thing in Middle Earth. We also start making soft drinks, beer etc since no licencing is necessary (strangely enough, being Mordor) and set up out the front of our little drinks making complex the thing that grows into being a bar.

Its a kinda anonymous 'buy your drinks here' and sit wherever at first. In the first lights of the end of the war a lot is bartering. People swap what they can that we want in return for drinks. Some of guys that visit make our first tables and chairs in return for drinks. Someone builds a proper building for drinks. You get the idea. When money ain't much of a thing, people use a barter system and our business thrives.

Then come the westerners.

Its a good six months after the war ended when they turn up. By this point we're the socialising centre of Mordor and have heard the gossip of them having come into Mordor to try and colonise it. The first physical sigh we see of it is a small company of Gondorian knights riding in and being generally aggressive.

"Oi you, what are you doing disturbing my business and harassing my patrons? There are rules here!" I yell, leaning against the door, looking totally unimpressed.

The knights stare at me in shock, clearly not expecting a human woman to be there, let alone to challenge them. The lead one gets his spear and begins to point it at me. My look remains unimpressed.

"If you point that twig at me I'll call the troll barmaid to do what we do with everyone who can't keep to the rules. The first of which is no aggression to customers or you get chucked out on your arse. And when a troll girl throws you out, you get thrown far." There is a stunned silence at that speech before the lead guy raises his spear again and takes off his helmet to adequately stare at me.

"Did I just hear you say barmaid?" He asks incredulously. I roll my eyes.

"Yes." He blinks at me disbelievingly and I finally give in. "Since you obviously haven't sent long enough actually talking to the inhabitants instead of killing 'em, we're the Mount Doom Cocktail Bar, the one and only drinking establishment, socialising spot and general social centre of Mordor. Rule number one is no aggression, no matter what you're species or theirs. You can discuss politics but the moment it gets too loud to ignore or you start even threatening violence you're out on your arse. Rule two. You can pay in coin or barter. We have someone you can go to to negotiate at the desk to the left of the bar and we'll keep tabs on what is owed either way. Services rendered can also be a form of payment. Rule three, you break something, you fix it. Rule four, you may flirt with the staff but if they reject you accept it, harassing staff, touching 'em without consent, inappropriate sexual innuendo are all not tolerated and you'll be out on your arse until you can prove you've learnt your lesson and will behave properly. Rule five, keep your politics to yourself. You can debate 'em quietly with someone else who is willing but no shouting em out, preaching or whatever. Simple enough?" The knight looked shocked and nodded. Then he tilted his head sideways.

"Do you have any beer on tap?" I grinned.

"Yeah, of the human suitable beers, we have Faith, Hope, and Charity. Dark ale, larger and porter respectively." He grinned wider.

"Is there anywhere safe to put the horses?" I nodded.

"Round the side is the horse coral. Its mostly Haradhrim horses at the moment, but its far enough away from the warg and violent mounts coral that the horses are safe." He blinked and shook his head.

"Only here would you need a violent mounts stable." He said ruefully and I grinned at him, shrugging.

"It is Mordor, and the orcs do like their warg mounts. A few of them, when drunk try a few other stupid things, but they don't usually provide repeat custom if you know what I mean." The Knight snorted sardonically as he took his horse round to where I'd indicated.

Once done he and his (distinctly suspicious looking) knights come inside and claim a table. I go over to them, the only one here who speaks the westerner's language. Soon I have them sorted out with their beers of choice (two faiths', a hope and a charity) and a little bowl of bar munchies, which were, as bar tradition states, as salty as heck. As I bring the drinks and the leader takes at first a small and the longer drink from the pottery mug, he looks at me, curious look in his eyes.

"So how the hell did a girl, who looks and speaks Gondorian, come to be running a public house on Mount Doom?" I snort and roll my eyes.

"Now that is a long story, and would take more time than I have to explain even if I cared to." He nodded, clearly realising that there was no way such a story would be short.

"You should put a sign up you know. I'll pass round to the rest of our guys you exist and are good for drinking at, and make sure no-one causes any trouble, as well as pass on the rules." I nod appreciatively.

"Thanks, thats generous of you." I say, a hint of suspicion in my voice. He flashes me a charming grin.

"This is currently the least popular posting in the army and the quarter masters give us watered down piss to drink. It'll get a lot less unpopular if people know that there is a good drinking place to go and relax in." I nod, pleased and the prospect of increased business.

And that is how the rest of the Mount Doom shanty town begins. Because the Gondorians first, and then the Rohirrim as well, start drinking there, other things start to pop up. First are military camp type things, a makeshift forge for their weapons which quickly becomes permanent turns up first. Then someone decides they need somewhere more permanent for people to sleep and a sort of hotel starts up in conjunction with us, staffed by more of the female denizens of Mordor.

Next thing, oddly enough, is a clothes shop. Actually, its not that odd considering that most of the people running things round here are actually female. As it turns out, all the crafting and non-hitting people stuff done in Mordor was done by females and the hitty bashy stuff by the male orcs, trolls or whatever so its us girls who run the bar, the hotel/inn and even are part involved in the forge, although there is a couple of Gondorian guys working there too, getting on surprisingly well with the troll girl and orc matron who also work there. This overwhelmingly female inhabitant list are quickly getting from the human visitors, the concept of fashion. We want pretty dresses, and quickly someone starts making clothes to fit the eclectic range of people working in the Mount Doom shanty town. Which incidentally is sparkly. Very Sparkly, because if orc and troll girls are gonna get fashion they want all the loud sparkles. And I say that as the human who started all this.

The next few things to pop up would take too long to list simply because it starts to become less a shanty town as a proper town, all built round my bar, now with big sign outside.

I pull back from my contemplation of how I got to be here to look around the full bar.

Its now pretty big, and not just to give our troll clientele enough space. There are some 'bar games' modified for our rather more multi species regulars. The darts board is probably the most interesting, and I can tell you, there is nothing so entertaining as watching a troll try and play darts. Out the back there is also an archery range (drunk archery is pretty entertaining too) and nearby are a few sports fields as well, one of the rare sections of the town mostly ran by the male part of the population.

Nowadays, the entire very large back part of the main room is one very big bar area with several staff of basically every species serving up a range of drinks, from the classic cocktails I brought for earth, beers, the odd wine etc. to the rather more specialist drinks for other species, including 'firepower' which is a cocktail of that awful orc energy drink thing mixed with Vodka and some local herbs which I wouldn't put in me if you paid me (the orc girls behind the bar assure me they find it nice). The combinations are ever increasing as inventing new ones are one of the things we allow to barter for drinks or food, since we now also have a kitchen, which is shared with the hotel next door as it just makes sense.

Over towards the stage that got added in tonight's band are warming up.

Oh, that is one thing in the development of 'Town Doom' as some bloody comedian has named us (and put up a big wild west style sign at the entrance to our little township, mostly because I made the mistake of joking about it when I first heard the name) I forgot to mention. How we got live music performances.

It starts with some Gondorian soldiers getting absolutely off their heads drunk as they're on leave (and the fact there are soldiers who will now take their shorter leave here says a lot about our development) and begin singing some _very_ dirty songs together. This of course is vastly entertaining to the rest of the bar, who are soon cheering them on and challenging them with their own very dirty songs, the anatomy of which I really don't want to think about thanks.

The next night they're back and people are actually standing them drinks to sing again. Its at that point I decide its time to introduce another idea from Earth and begin to make it known that I will take proper live performances for drink, with an audition first to make sure they're half decent.

The quiet afternoon slot soon becomes a lot less quiet, as when people realise that this is audition time, they start coming in early to listen and possibly heckle at the various hopeful acts. Which is dead useful to me, although I don't tell them that, because its a brilliant way to gauge how popular they will be.

So almost every night we have live acts playing, which draws yet more people in and results in another extension to the bar including a stage for the performers so that they can be seen.

Tonight's act are what could probably best be described as a 'comedy country' band. Essentially the gondorian soldier version of the Wurzles back on earth. They're a bunch of guys from the sticks of Gondor with thick country accents and a dodgy sense of humour, who are both singing their own songs as well as popular songs re-done in their own inimitable style.

An hour or two later its into the jovial air of this rather silly music act that two people step into my bar and everything goes silent.

I look to main door to see what caused that reaction and groan quietly.

Of all the bars in the world this had to happen in my damned bar.

Also, I'm apparently living the cliché. Particularly the cliché of one of the most regular awful jokes round here, on a par with 'chicken crossing the road' jokes back on earth.

And Elf and a Dwarf have just walked into my bar. Just great. Really really great.

Oh and you know what? I'm willing to bet everyone can guess who they are, since there is only one elf/dwarf pair in middle earth, at least to my knowledge. Things, methinks, are going to get complicated fast.


End file.
